


Photophobia

by kawiikitkat



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Hearing Voices, Injury, M/M, Phobias, Psychological Horror, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawiikitkat/pseuds/kawiikitkat
Summary: photophobia: the fear of lightDespite his persistent fear of ghost, demons, and whatever else could be lurking in the dark, Ryan locks himself in the vacant blackness of his home. The curtains are closed, the lights are off, the door is locked. But Shane swears that he'll get into that house, to bring in some light, even if it kills him.





	1. The Voice Tells Me to Forget

In the looming absence of light, something crashes onto the ground. It shatters, its harsh noise rupturing the silence like a whip. It was probably a plate, but Ryan has dropped too many plates to know that it wasn't it. Ryan crouches down to his knees and feels around the floor for any fragments. His fingers feel something smooth, but they slip a little too quickly and soon he feels a wet gash form on his right index finger. _Shit._

He feels his way to the bathroom, maneuvering through furniture. He has done this countless times, he could probably do it in his sleep. Or even backwards. He turns on the faucet by instinct and let's the chilling water run over his finger. And that's it. He let's water take care of the blood and forgets about the cut. It was standard procedure. Mostly due to the fact that he forgot where the first aid kit was and even if he did he would have no idea how to use it without causing a hazard.

Most of Ryan's life was like that. Forgetting things for the greater good. Like how he forgot to lock his car and heard it being started in the middle of the night. The distant sound of teenage boys cheering while they drove off made no impact to him. _Not like you we're gonna go drive in it again. Or go outside again for that matter._

He remembers the time he forgot his phone in his bedroom. Once again, no impact. _You were never going to use it again, anyway._ Who was that? Ryan was never really sure. But he appreciated the company of this mysterious voice in his head. Most times.

He was sleeping in the guest bedroom, when he hears his phone ringing. The persistent jingle fills the house with no end. He knew better than to check the bedroom, knowing that the phone would be activated and would leave a daunting sight. A sight he had long forgotten. Light. So he stays.

And the phone keeps ringing like a distant cry. The cry was calling to him, but the tiny voice echoed, _Don't go, don't go, don't go._ Soon the call ends, leaving Ryan in silence once more. But the ringing starts again. Impatience swells up in him, forcing him out of bed. This time, the voice in his head does not echo, but screeches. _DON'T GO, DON'T GO, DON'T GO!_ His head starts to ache.

He sits down on the mattress while the ringing continues. His hands are shaking. He wants to jump out of his skin and stop the wretched sound. _The light! Do you want to see the light?_ He raises his knees up to his chin and buries his face into the crevice, his body quivering. _DO YOU?!_ Ryan shakes his head no. He feels like he's being punished, like a child being scolded for breaking the rules. He's crying now, his face wet with tears and his hand stained with blood from an incident earlier that day. He couldn't go back to sleep. 

But that was weeks ago. Now he knew to obey the voice, never going into that room. Never letting him even think about the phone. The phone would still ring sometimes, but he learned to forget about it. But still, the feeling that someone hadn't forgotten _him_ and was still calling him caused an agonizing pang in his chest. But an even sharper pain of the voice's furious shriek sent a bullet through his head.

He wishes that someone would save him from this hell, wishes that someone would take away this pain and the voices in his head. But no is there. Except himself. And the wispy voice in the back of his mind.


	2. Knock, knock, knock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been two months since Ryan had begun hiding. He wishes and prays that everyone would forget about him. However, his worst fears come true, and he realizes that he will never be truely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter includes graphic scenes of self harm.
> 
> Also this chapter is really short but I just felt like I needed to update this and I'm really tired so yeah.

**Knock, knock, knock**

It was 11:22 p.m. and Ryan was sitting at his small dining room, the most secure place in his house, when he hears the most detrimental sound at his front door. His heart nearly bursts out of his chest. A storm brews in his gut and he tries to hold in the bile rising in his throat. Horror seemed to seep into his bloodstream. He hovers over the sink in his kitchen and vomits up the putrid substance. It burns in his mouth and smells a bit like iron- like blood.

_Hide. HIDE!_ The voice jeers at Ryan, fueling him with fear. Ever since he started hiding, Ryan pleaded that his friends and family would forget him. But now, the knocking at the front door is persistent as the ringing of his phone. He hides under the table, even though his home is pitch black and no one would ever see him anyways. Listening to each rap against the door, he notices how the knocks become more desperate. Like someone was waiting impatiently and worriedly outside. Maybe a friend.

His mind tries to shut out the thought, but fails. So he does what he usually does when he's distressed. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a shard of glass and presses it against the skin of his forearm. _Breath in. Breath out._ Ryan struggles to get the fragment to cut through his skin, but soon the glass slices in and blood seeps out. 

For a moment, everything is serene, even the voice in his head is muted. He has done this several times before, and every time brings back the same sick satisfaction. The warm blood eases the sting of the cut. But the knock on the door persists. Ryan coughs, some blood lingering in his throat. _No more hiding._ This time, it is not the voice that speaks. Not the voice that controls him, taunts him, but his own. Ryan crawls from the table and stumbles to the door.

Each step he takes is heavy with purpose. The knock grows closer, and Ryan reaches out in front of him, feeling the smooth door knob. An escape. Or rather, an entrance. He fiddles with the lock. **Click.** From the other side, the door creaks open, revealing the black night sky and the _light_ of the stars. Ryan's breathing grows rapid, his eyes wide and gleaming with dismay. In front of him stands an unusually tall, messy haired man.

A friend.


End file.
